


Don’t Panic At The Rave

by tjstar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: 1x07 except klaus discovering he's got new powers after getting back to life, Dreams, Gen, Good Brother Ben Hargreeves, Hurt/Comfort, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, Levitation, M/M, No Incest, Past Drug Addiction, Sibling Bonding, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Symbolism, Telekinesis, also ben teaches him how to control them, dave is still dead sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-10 22:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: “You threw Luther across the hall without even touching him,” Ben points out. “I think you can stop the Apocalypse as well.”





	Don’t Panic At The Rave

He can’t go back, but _they_ don’t let him stay.

Silence gets replaced with a shitty remixed song, darkness explodes with plethora of too bright lights. Red, orange, yellow, red again. Too painful for a sober brain. The shapes of reality are all fuzzy when Klaus scrambles to sit up on a dirty floor surrounded by party animals who can pounce on him if they smell a coward. Just like they did before.

“Are you okay, buddy?”

Klaus nods despite the humming in his skull. Luther said he was envious of Klaus’ lifestyle, because _oh dear,_ who wouldn’t. The package looks really nice even though babysitting gone wrong now. Klaus couldn’t even stop his Number One Brother from popping pills and hooking up with a random girl, but this is what you do when you grow up, probably.

This is how Klaus’ luck works — he can handle the torture, he can survive ten months in Vietnam without bleeding out to death, and then he _accidentally_ gets killed while getting jostled around the dancefloor that turned to a battlefield. His neck was twisted, he heard that sound just as clearly as he hears his rapid heartbeat now. Now, when the memories suck him into a black hole. Death was a monochrome movie with his tank top as the only one colorful blotch; death tasted like ash and his father’s disappointment. Like his father’s _words._ It’s not that Klaus ever forgets about his weakness, no. The truth is not far out of reach — Sir Reginald Hargreeves killed himself to gather his kids who were meant to save the world together. How lovely of him.  

“We need to go,” Ben shouts over the pounding of music. “Hurry up.”

Not even chilly wind can reduce his pain as he leaves the club. Ben follows him down a deserted street, of course; Klaus’ mind is either fooling him or there’s Ben’s shadow on the asphalt. He has always been a very talented guy.

The world is about to turn to a pile of dust and bricks.

“Somebody’s gonna have a hangover,” Klaus chuckles. “Somebody who’s not me.”

Ben shrugs and covers his face with the hood.

 

***

“Afterlife is boring as hell,” Klaus mutters. “Do you think it would be better if I could be invisible or somethin’? Ben?”

He’s sitting in the bathtub, cold water is about to boil as his fever rises high. Ben is not here not to violate his privacy, but Klaus can’t stop talking to him recently. The mansion that used to be a hive of bees is silent now, even though Luther and his kinky paramour are most likely having fun in his room.

This is a success or another gameover.

Klaus has stopped listening to music while taking a bath just to be sure he’s alone in the bathroom; he has stopped doing a lot of things that he thought were parts of his personality.

The room is dark, blue shadows leak out of the cracks between the tiles. Maybe it’s mold, maybe it’s just a fancy design; they’ve been there for as long as Klaus remembers himself. Ghostly whispers flood his ears, he’s feeling oddly exposed as the dead begin to beg him for help, opening new channels. Klaus slides down the smooth ceramic and holds his breath until his eardrums are about to burst; this is a coping mechanism, too. He might fall asleep underwater one day, peaceful and careless.

“Klaus!”

Thick soapy wave splashes out of the tub as Klaus sits up, gasping and hyperventilating, slapping his palms against the surface. He’s angry all of the sudden, he barely suppresses his scream as the shelf with all the shampoos and shower gels crashes down, bottles scatter across the floor. At first, Klaus thinks that the Apocalypse got rescheduled. Then, he thinks that this is the earthquake, the water sloshes around the bathtub like a blackened poison; when Klaus wipes the foam off his face he realizes that he’s the only one who’s quivering. There’s a vibration racking through his body, muscles tensed and body hair full of electricity as if he’s about to cause a short circuit. The shelf is lying on the tiles now, broken in two.

“How did you do that?!”

Ben sounds amazed.

Klaus hangs over the side of the tub and grabs the towel from the floor.

“Just a coincidence.”

 

***

He’s dreaming of Dave this night; it’s just a short vision with a tiny glimpse of hope. There’s no gunshot wound in Dave’s chest, no blood and grim on his lips, no gurgling sounds instead of words. His silhouette is glowing white and blue as he takes off his rifle and tosses it to the ground. _His_ war is over although peace will never come.

Dave smiles, Klaus smiles back.

There’s the tingling on his back, goosebumps on his shoulders and a knot in his stomach; he’s travelling, this can be called an out-of-body experience. The air is too viscous to get into Klaus’ lungs; this substance is all around him like a dome.

“Wake up!”

The ceiling has never been this close, for a second Klaus is sure that he’s managed to die again somehow. Then, the void stops holding him; Klaus doesn’t dare take a breath when his back thuds against the mattress, and he immediately jumps back up due to the force of it. He slams the side of his head against the bedside table then slumps down on the floor with the roaring filling his ears. Klaus vaguely hears Ben talking to him and telling him to stay awake; he panics then, throwing his arms up, and all the things in his room take off their places like messed up plantes missing their orbits. Bewildered, Klaus lies in the middle of this havoc until a massive book lands right onto his foot, bruising his toenails under the layer of black polish. His body throbs and pulsates all over; he’s even _jealous_ of Ben’s incorporiety.

“Stop this,” Klaus exhales.

Reading lamp dances in the air before falling onto the bed, and the string of Christmas lights stops lashing the wall.

Klaus sits up, leaning his bare back against the side of a headboard. Sweat streams down his temples, breathing ragged and chest heaving sporadically. He looks around his trashed room with the chairs turned upside down as if he’s had a nervous breakdown and caused this to happen. He’s made a lot of sudden noises over the course of this paranormal adventure, but he’s simply not in the mood to fight his siblings’ curiosity.

Even though no one comes to check him.

Ben snaps his fingers and says,

“Now you can’t ignore this, I guess.”

And Klaus says,

“Oh, you don’t know me then.”

 

***

Ben keeps representing the voice of Klaus’ conscience.

“This is not the first time, you’ve been able to do these things… From the very beginning,” he says. “You made that briefcase explode in the middle of the street, it was you, Klaus! And you made the umbrella fall off the hanger, and now this. You’re developing powers. Stop denying this, man.”

Klaus shakes his head.

This could be still a sudden outburst of energy, a hallucination, anything. Mostly because he’s not prepared for this. Mostly because it’s obvious that something’s off, more than usually. There is a pesky itching in his limbs, in his palms just like that day when he got them tattooed; he’d give Ben a _friendly_ GOODBYE slap across the face if he only could.

But Ben is still just an astral projection.

“Wait, do you think that my death like… Improved me?”

This can be a joke, but Ben is way too serious.

“As dumb as this sounds if it didn’t kill you, then… Yes?”

“Cool,” Klaus rubs his palms. “Let’s try this.”

Klaus tries to recall to the sensations he got enchained by in the bathroom or in his bedroom, but the fortune is not by his side today. But there’s a whisper behind his back, a “help me” instead of “hello”.

“Knock-knock, who’s there?”

The phantom disappears before Klaus detects it; he’s sure it’s one of those bastards from the mausoleum that won’t leave him alone now.

“How rude.”

Ben doesn’t swallow the bait.

“You avoid speaking with the ghosts because you’re afraid of ‘em. But what stops you from using your new powers?”

“I’m not good with heights either.”

He’s not lying, levitating made him feel queasy last night. Or well, his withdrawal did it to him. He can still call it just a bad dream though.

“We’re going to practice then,” Ben says. “Now.”

Klaus stops dead in his tracks.

_“We?”_

“I’m the only one sibling who can’t get hurt during your experiments.”

And Ben slides into Klaus’ bedroom.

 

***

The fortune is _still_ not by Klaus’ side when Ben tries to urge him to do something extraordinary. Ben looks too frustrated for a ghost, it makes Klaus giggle every so often since there’s not many things that can make him laugh anymore.

“Bathroom, you were in the bathroom… Naked,” Ben mumbles. “Then in your bed… Half naked, with only pants on.”

“You’re not missing a bit, bro,” Klaus says. “Something else?”

Ben’s eyes glimmer deliriously.

“Take your shoes off. Now, come on, we need to reconstruct those events.”

Klaus flops down onto his bed and unties the shoelaces, kicking his converse sneakers off.

“Your socks, too.”

Klaus sighs and does as he told.

“What now?”

“Now focus.”

“How predictable.”

It’s easier to disappoint Ben right now and be done already; Klaus climbs onto the mattress cross-legged and places his clammy palms on his knees as if he’s about to start meditating. Ben’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, and Klaus suddenly notices this unhealthy interest shimmering through Ben’s facial features. Sir Reginald looked at them almost like this during the trainings. During Klaus’ _personal_ trainings especially.

“You’re distracting me.”

Of course, Ben doesn’t interrupt the session although Klaus wants him to, sincerely; it takes a slight twist of his wrist for the chair to spin around so Ben faces the wall. But here comes Klaus’ bad luck, because he apparently can’t do just one movement at a time; all the books on the floor swirl again, pages rustling like butterfly wings.

But it brings less damage this time.

“Nicely done, Klaus.”

The books drop down by themselves.

Ben doesn’t look at him anymore.

Klaus thinks about his dream again, about how strange it felt when he woke up. He thinks about Dave, about staying sober for him; Klaus needs a sign to be sure it’s worth it, he’s about to plead.

“I need this,” Klaus whispers. “I need.”

There’s a lot of dormant energy inside of him, he knows, Ben knows, and he wants Dave to know this too, to contact him, to make Dave proud. Klaus closes his eyes, seeing multicolored zigzags swim behind his eyelids. There’s not much weight contained in his skinny frame, but he pushes himself to feel even lighter as if his soul is leaving his body. The mattress is soft underneath him, just like feathers and clouds; Klaus’ trance deepens as he counts his inhales and exhales, he’s never worked on this before. His tank top is drenched in sweat that dribbles down his spine as he tries not to sway _in the air._ He opens one eye and sees his room from a different perspective, he’s still sitting in a lotus pose and the floor is too far below.

“Wow,” Ben comments.

The top of Klaus’ head hits the ceiling. It’s sore again, he touches it, neglecting his self-control, and next second he’s plummeting, letting out a short squeak as he crashes down onto the pillows. He’s not a high flyer, but adrenaline fills his veins to the point of getting euphoric. Klaus lies there with his head hanging off the side of the bed — his aching neck might break again. Then, he wants to scream in excitement, to share this moment of celebration with his only viewer.

“I did it! Did you see this?” Klaus punches the mattress. “I fucking did it!”

“Told you so,” Ben nods.

Klaus highfives him, with his palm going through Ben’s. For the first time, this makes Ben smile.

 

***

Klaus gets clumsier during their “family meetings”. He’s still sick and shaky from withdrawal, and he constantly gets yelled at for accidentally dropping things without noticing. But he is mostly focused on not doing any sudden moves not to screw up his nonexistent reputation. The last time he waved his arm a porcelain vase has fallen off the glass table and shattered to pieces; Pogo was very sad about it. While Klaus is roaming the living room barefoot, his siblings are way too busy bitching over all the possible ways to save the world. This is their main problem, and Klaus can’t look at the paintings on the walls without thinking of selling them along with all the family gold and silverware they own. He shouldn’t be dwelling on this.

So Klaus just wants to call it a night.

Ben gives him an unreadable look, but Klaus only manages to take like three steps when Luther’s hand smacks against his shoulder. As heavy as it felt on his throat, squeezing it and cutting the air off.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Klaus grins. “This is my trademark style.”

He wishes his witty responses could sound as badass as Five’s although he looks like a kid. Like a regular 58-year-old coffee-addicted kid.

Luther’s grasp gets tighter, Klaus’ shoulder is about to crack.

“You’re staying with us.”

“Oh. Really? Good,” Klaus raises his hands in defeat. “Well, I…”

Luther’s swept away before Klaus even finishes the sentence. Klaus frowns, his brain is too slow to proceed this, but his palms touch a dense invisible wall that stretches like a rubber glove and covers the room in a haze. Luther gets up off the parquet in the end of the hallway, nearly diving into a fireplace — this is the moment when they have switched their roles. Klaus has never been a bully, but he doesn’t mind winning over Luther _for once,_ in front of all of their siblings including Ben.

Five raises his eyebrow.

“You are not as useless as I thought.”

Klaus nods.

“Danke.”

Diego seems to swallow the rest of his arguments he was about to use against Luther, asking,

“How did you do that?”

And Klaus says after a pause,

“I learned it the day I died.”

“Luther’s gonna be so pissed realizing that you can be strong without having an ape body.”

He might’ve broken one of the bulky columns if he rammed into it.

“That was a _nice_ throw,” Luther says as he comes back to the discussion. He’s speaking way too calmly; if he’s gonna whine that he’s envious again, Klaus is gonna break into hysteria.

Klaus expects a reaction slightly opposite from just a “what else you can do” and Diego throwing a knife into a velvet cushion. Klaus changes its flying trajectory mostly because he flinches, mostly because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

The knife falls onto the carpet next to Klaus’ toes.

Allison gives him a respectful glance.

“I think we… We can use it to prevent the Apocalypse somehow?” she breaks the silence.

And Five adds,

“Indeed.”

He’s way too unflappable. Which is simply the worst, because you can’t just fuck up Five’s orders without dying afterwards. And well, Klaus is not _that_ suicidal anyway.

“No, guys, no,” he shoves his hands into his vest’ pockets to curb his telekinesis. “I’m not sure if I’m gonna be real helpful. I just discovered this power, so I… I don’t even know how to control this shit!”

Klaus ends his tirade with a loud groan.

“You threw Luther across the hall without even touching him,” Ben points out. “I think you can stop the Apocalypse as well.”

Klaus can’t find appropriate words to tell them about levitation.

 

***

They have one more night off before their final mission.

Klaus is drowning in doubts, because more powers lead to more responsibility, and he’s not ready to be responsible of the things he can’t control. He can still swallow a pill or drop acid and be just _himself_. Sobriety is an endless circle of “this is my best decision — I’m not gonna end up with Dave anyway — but what if I can conjure him — but what if I can’t.” Klaus even considers asking Five to teleport him back to 1968, but he’s got no guts to ask.

He eventually passes out when his brain gets too sluggish to keep a train of thought. His exhausted mind sends him straight to a green field, the color is so vibrant, and the air so clear that Klaus can finally breathe freely. The grass tickles his bare feet, there are no any landmarks within the eyeshot, but Klaus knows where he’s going as if there’s the map inserted into his brain. He runs all the abstract ways until he sees a figure in the middle of this sea of wheat, he craves to finally get noticed by _him._

“Dave?” Klaus squeezes the dog tags in his palm. “Dave!”

He speeds up, not stopping until he’s pulled into a hug.

“Klaus, it’s… It’s you!”

He can’t stay here, again, he knows.

But there’s no rifle on Dave’s shoulder, no blood on his white shirt as Klaus leans against Dave’s chest, feeling his strong hands on his back. He’s so real, so warm and alive; they kiss like there’s no tomorrow, they’re whispering all the unsaid words.

“Sorry that I left you,” they say in unison.

This is the sign Klaus needed.

A few days ago, he’d bring this soul to a pawn shop only to get stoned. Now they’ve got a whole world to save though, and Klaus’ newfound abilities might steer him clear of being the lookout this time.

There’s the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then he stopped the moon from falling. or well.  
> \---  
> inspired by [this post](https://i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky.tumblr.com/post/184393750976/guys-klaus-does-have-his-telekinesis-in-the-show)


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